


Summer Klaine Week 2014: Fic Masterpost

by Pterodactyl



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M, summer klaine week 2014
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2015-07-04
Packaged: 2018-04-07 17:18:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4271499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pterodactyl/pseuds/Pterodactyl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All the fic written for summer klaine week 2014, including the prompts: season 2 flashback, high school AU (tw for suicidal thoughts), what would you have changed? (tw for reference to self harm), crossover, and ten years later.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day One: Season 2 Flashback

**Author's Note:**

> day one: season 2 flashback, the moment they realise they love each other.

“So I told Rachel there was  _no way_  I was going to give up a solo just so she could sing about her damn broken heart again. She got it, of course, because Mr. Schue is a total pushover and couldn’t stand up against Rachel if he tried, he’s  _useless_ … Blaine, are you listening?”

Blaine blinks, lifting his head, and nods quickly. “Of course I am. Rachel took your solo.”

Kurt relaxes back against the couch again, digging his hand into the popcorn bowl balanced on their legs. “So I told Mr. Schue that honestly, if he wanted Rachel to have that solo that badly she could have it, but he wouldn’t be seeing me again…”

Blaine rests his chin on his hand, smiling as Kurt rolls his eyes at him and continues to rant, digging his fingers absent-mindedly into Blaine’s calves as he talks. Blaine settles back against the arm of the couch, watching him and chuckling every now and again, when Kurt gets especially carried away or almost knocks the popcorn bowl over.

“So now we’re at a stalemate,” he finishes, flopping back, “I’m not talking to Rachel, Finn isn’t talking to me, Mercedes isn’t talking to anyone - oh Blaine, if only we had a level-headed gentleman like you to keep us all sane,” he eyes Blaine over his glass of lemonade, eyes sparkling, and Blaine laughs. “Maybe I’ll have to join,” he teases, pushing down the voice in his head that calls  _do it! do it!_

“Maybe you will,” Kurt teases, smiling, and then stands, “Do you want another drink?”

“Oh sure, I’ll come help,” Blaine scrambles off the sofa and tugs his jeans up his hips a little, smirking as Kurt’s eyes are drawn down to his hips, his mouth falling open a little. They haven’t really crossed that line yet - haven’t even talked about it, but Blaine knows he wants Kurt to be his first. He wants to do - everything on Earth, everything in the universe, everything  _possible_ with Kurt.

It hits him kind of like a sledgehammer. He wants to spend his life with Kurt. He wants to grow old with him and have kids and have grandkids and retire and live in a house by the sea and -

Blaine loves him.

“Oh,” he says softly, and Kurt stops in the doorway of the kitchen, the summer sun glancing off his hair and making his eyes sparkle. “What?”

“Nothing,”  _everything_  “I just… you look really great today,” he says lamely, and Kurt blushes. “Oh, shut up.”

“You do,” Blaine moves forwards and loops an arm around Kurt’s waist, turning his face up to kiss him. In his head, he says  _I love you._

He can’t say it yet, but he doesn’t know how long he’ll be able to keep the words locked up inside him.

**

Kurt is frozen.

His hands are shaking and he feels sick. After this, after facing his fear, after walking back in this godforsaken badly decorated tacky mess of a prom, and he’s alone on the dance floor.

_You can’t run._

_I want to run._

He takes a deep breath and tips his chin up,  _I don’t care what you think, I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m_  -

“Excuse me.”

He turns and there’s Blaine. Beautiful, brave Blaine, fear evident in his body but his face warm and open, vulnerable. “May I have this dance?” and he can’t meet Kurt’s eyes as he extends one hand, his mouth tipping up into a smile.

Kurt couldn’t stop the smile if he tried. He slides his hand into Blaine’s, lets his boyfriend pull him in, and as their chests press together his heart just - skips a beat, and it all seems to fall into place.

_I love you._

He doesn’t say it - it’s not the time. But he knows, he knows as Blaine holds him and rocks him easy from side to side, reassuring him with the press of his fingers and his broad, beautiful smile, even as they watch over each other’s shoulders and squeeze each other tight - he knows.  _I love you._

He smiles wide and ducks his face into Blaine’s shoulder for a moment. “Thank you,” he whispers, and Blaine just smiles wider and squeezes his hand.

They don’t need to say it. They just know.

 


	2. This Life Can Leave You Empty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> summer klaine week day 2: high school au. or, in which kurt meets someone on a bridge. tw: suicidal thoughts. set in a sort of au similar to that shown in the s4 christmas episode, but taking place in season 1/very early season 2.

The headlights flash over the figure standing on the bridge and Kurt frowns, slowing down a little. It’s a cold, rainy night, and he doesn’t really know why anyone would be standing out there on their own. They’re not wearing a coat and there’s a car parked haphazardly at the side of the road. Kurt comes to a stop, wondering what on earth is going on.

He winds down his window, reluctant to get out of his car in case the boy turns out to be a serial killer dumping his latest victim. “Hey, you okay?“

There’s no reply, and the boy wavers a little, like he might turn around, and then climbs up onto the top railing of the bridge.

Kurt panics. He throws open the door of his car and scrambles out into the rain, his feet slipping a little on the wet tarmac as he sprints across the road, his mind flashing scenarios - he could slip I could slip and knock him he could jump anyway oh god please don’t jump please don’t jump -

"Hey, hey,” he pants as he draws up, “Are you - hey, come down, okay? You might - might slip.“ The words sound stilted and fake in his mouth and he gulps as the boy’s battered old sneakers shuffle on the railing. “So?”

“So you might get hurt,” Kurt hazards, he doesn’t know how to do this. He doesn’t know how to talk someone down like this. He desperately doesn’t want to fuck it up.

The boy makes a noise in the back of his throat and drops his face into a trembling hand. “Please go.“

"No,” Kurt says, reaching out his hand, “Look, just - just come down, okay? Talk to me. My name’s Kurt.“

The boy takes a deep, shuddery breath and then turns, his fingers slipping into Kurt’s. Kurt grabs on hard and helps him down, cupping his elbow with one hand when he slips. “Hey, you okay? What’s - what’s your name.”

“Blaine,” he whispers, “I’m Blaine.“

"Okay, Blaine, just - just come away from the edge, okay? Just come and sit over here, we can sit in my car, okay?”

“Okay,” Blaine stumbles as they cross the road and Kurt steers him into the passenger seat and places a blanket around his shoulders, pressing his half-drunk cup of coffee into his hands. “You can have it, it’s just a mocha, I’m not even thirsty. Are - are you okay?“

Blaine looks at him, his hazel eyes tired and dull. “Why are you even asking me? You don’t care.”

“I - I do care, I don’t know you but I do care,” Kurt puts his hand on Blaine’s wrist, feeling horribly unqualified for this sort of thing, “I just - tell me about yourself.“

Blaine blinks at him with wide, confused eyes, and he looks like he’s been crying. He might still be crying. “I’m - my name’s Blaine Anderson. I’m, um, I’m fourteen. I - I don’t know. I’m just - I don’t know.”

“Where do you go to school?” Kurt asks, fumbling for the heat packs he keeps in the glovebox and handing one to Blaine, “In Lima?“

"Yeah,” Blaine looks at his lap, “I - I’m gay.“

"Okay,” Kurt says slowly, “I am too. Is that -?“

"These kids at my school,” Blaine’s talking faster now, his eyes shifting to look everywhere but at Kurt, “They keep - they beat me up, me and my friend, we just went to this dumb dance and they - and they keep - shoving me in the hallways and I can’t leave, I can’t run away, I’m just - I’m so tired,“ he says, his hands falling loosely into his lap. “I’m so tired of everything.”

Kurt swallows. “My school sucks too.“

Blaine looks up, his eyes wet. “Huh?”

“I get locker-slammed a lot,” Kurt shrugs, “And they toss slushies in my face every week. I know it hurts and I know it feels like it’s never going to end and you’ll never - you’ll never get out of there. But we will. I get through it. And I think you can too.“

"How?” Blaine wraps his arms around himself, “I don’t even want to try any more.“

"Let me help,” Kurt leans in, “You can talk to me. I’ll be here. Look, I’ll give you my cell number, okay? You can call me whenever you need to. We can find a way to help you.“

Blaine’s shoulders relax, a tiny, tiny smile twitching the side of his mouth. “Okay.”

“Let me drive you home,” Kurt says, taking Blaine’s phone to plug his number in and sending himself a text, “Okay? I’ll come pick you up tomorrow, too, and we can get your car.“

"Okay,” Blaine nods now, looking a little brighter, and Kurt feels relieved. He’s done it. He’s got Blaine down and he’s safe and he’s going home.

“Let me give you a hug,” he says, and Blaine falls into his arms like that’s all he wanted Kurt to do.

**

When Kurt finally gets home, he sits in his car in the driveway staring at the message thread for Blaine. Biting his lip, he taps out one word.

 **To** : Blaine A  
Courage.

A few seconds later, he gets a reply.

 **From** : Blaine A   
Thank you.


	3. Day Three: What Would You Have Changed?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> summer klaine week day 3: what would you change? or, kurt actually talks in the hotel room. and blaine didn’t cheat, he broke up with kurt over the phone - not in New York. tw: blink and you miss it reference to self-harm.

“Tell me now that we’re not back together.”

Kurt fumbles a little with the buttons on his shirt. “I mean,” he shrugs a little, “It was fun.” He shifts, suddenly uncomfortable in his shirt. It was fun. It was  _more_  than fun. It was  _I still love you and I never ever want to let you go_  fun.

Blaine makes a noise in the back of his throat. “Don’t -”

“But -” Kurt hurries to say, but Blaine is already talking over him. “I’m not gonna let you minimise this, Kurt! It’s no accident that we were together on Christmas and again on  _Valentines_  day,” he grabs Kurt’s jacket and slides off the bed, holding it out for him to thread his arms into, “And we’re going to be together for many, many more no matter how much you pretend that this doesn’t mean anything.” His hands are rubbing at Kurt’s shoulders, easing away the tension building there, and Kurt can’t stop the smile on his face as Blaine brushes away the nonexistent lint on his shoulders.

Breathing in, he turns and Blaine’s eyes fall to his lips immediately as he leans in, his mouth parting a little. Kurt - Kurt chickens out. He’s scared.

“I’ll see you downstairs,” he whispers, smirking, and holds Blaine’s gaze as he lets himself out.

He can’t make himself walk more than a few steps down the hallway before he’s stopping. He tells himself it’s because he’s not wearing his tie, he doesn’t want to look anything less than perfectly put together, but it’s not. It’s because of Blaine.

He turns back to the door and pushes it open again.

Blaine is lying on his back on the rumpled bed, his hands over his face. For one heart-stopping moment Kurt thinks he’s  _crying_  but he’s not, he’s smiling, his dumb goofy smile where his eyes crinkle and his nose scrunches up.

“Hey,” Kurt says, “Um, forgot my tie.”

Blaine bolts upright, his eyes wide, and scrambles off the bed to pick it up from where it was looped over the handle of the nightstand. “Here,” he says breathlessly, looping it around Kurt’s neck.

“Um. Blaine, that’s not -”

“Shh,” Blaine smiles as he straightens his own plain tie around Kurt’s neck. When Kurt goes to knot it himself Blaine clicks his tongue and knocks his hands away, his fingers nimbly turning the tie back on itself until it’s a perfect half-Windsor knot. Still, Blaine doesn’t look up, tugging at the tie until it’s perfectly centered and Kurt - 

Kurt pictures this in ten years, Blaine a little older but just as beautiful, tightening a tie around Kurt’s neck before he heads out to Vogue, or to an audition. He’d smile, and pat Kurt on the chest, and kiss him softly. He’d say good luck,  _even though you won’t need it_ , and he’ll walk Kurt to the door and kiss him again, and wave as he walks down the hallway of their apartment, and -

“Kurt? Are you okay?” Blaine looks confused, his hands now loose by his sides, “Did I -”

Kurt kisses him. Blaine stiffens and then whines in the back of his throat, his hands settling at Kurt’s waist and then slipping down to tug at the buckle of his belt and -

“Hey, hey,” Kurt pulls back, “Hold on, can we - can we talk please? I need to talk to you.”

Blaine’s eyes widen and glaze over a little. “Are you - should I not have -”

“No, no, Blaine,” Kurt ducks his head to press a kiss to Blaine’s cheek, “I just - I want to talk about what we are.”

A faint flicker of hope lights in Blaine’s eyes. “Okay.”

Kurt sits down on the bed and gestures for Blaine to do the same. They sit in silence for a moment, until Kurt clears his throat and says “I forgive you. I forgave you a while ago, actually. We both made mistakes and you took what you thought was the logical route, and I was hurt, and we were both wrong.”

Blaine’s eyes fill with tears. “Kurt -”

“No, hold on, I just,” Kurt rubs at the bridge of his nose, “I know we went wrong. Both of us. I’m not going to deny that I did screw up. But if we’re going to try again… do you want to try again?”

“Yes,” Blaine says so quickly he stumbles over the word, “Yes yes yes, Kurt, yes, of course I do.”

“Okay,” Kurt nods, “Okay. Good. Me too. But if we’re going to try again, we need to talk this time.”

“I  _did_  try,” Blaine says, his voice choked up, “I tried, Kurt, I tried to tell you.”

“I know,” Kurt doesn’t know how to say this, “But we both - we - we need to do it right this time. Talk. I’ll make more of an effort -”

“You shouldn’t have to, Kurt.”

“Yes I should,” Kurt slides his hand into Blaine’s, brings it up to his mouth, “Yes I should.”

“We both should.”

“Yes,” Kurt kisses his wrist, where his watch covers the scars, “We will. We’ll make it work this time. I know it.”

“We’re really going to try again?” Blaine asks, his cheeks a little wet, and Kurt nods. “I want to.”

“Good,” Blaine chokes out a little laugh, and then his smile falls, “But your guy - in New York -”

“He’s not really my boyfriend, we just… we went out for a couple dates but it didn’t really click,” Kurt shrugs, “We’re just friends. He actually pushed me to talk to you.”

“Oh gosh,” Blaine rubs his eyes, blushing a little, “Maybe I should send him flowers.”

“Mmm, no, just save those for me,” Kurt kisses his cheek, grinning. Blaine sniffs and inhales shakily. “Kurt, I am  _so_  sorry -”

“Shh, no, it’s okay. It’s behind us now. We’re better. I promise,” Kurt kisses his nose and Blaine laughs, ducking his head a little. “Okay. We’re better.”

“Now,” Kurt puts a finger on his lips, “I think I deserve a kiss from my boyfriend, right?”

Blaine’s lips are on his before he can blink. 


	4. Day Four: Crossover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> summer klaine week day 4: crossover. or, kurt gets seated with the weird gryffindor boy.

“Hummel? You’re the middle one this year, I see.”

“Here, sir,” Kurt says smartly, smiling. He’s in the centre of the register this year, which means he’ll be working alone, instead of being paired up with someone else. From the other side of the room Quinn glares at him where she’s sitting next to that hulkish brute Karofsky, and he smiles and wiggles his fingers at her.

“Right then. You can have the back seat, Hummel, make sure to stabilise that wobbly leg,” Professor Schuester says, smiling benevolently, and Kurt rolls his eyes a little and leans sideways to jam a folded-up piece of parchment under the shorter leg of the desk. He’s settling down for Schuester’s beginning-of-the-year motivational talk when the door bangs open.

“I’m - I’m so sorry,” a thin voice pants, “I was lost, the map was wrong, um - this is Potions, isn’t it?”

“Advanced potions, yes,” Schuester says, frowning, “You’re Anderson, aren’t you? The fourth year?”

“Yes, sir,” the voice says. Kurt cranes his neck, but he can’t see the person it belongs to, “But my head of house, he said I’d be in these classes, because I came from Durmstrang -”

 _Oh, god. One of_  those, Kurt thinks, rolling his eyes again. Durmstrang boys are always incredibly stuck up and pretentious, acting like they’ve all got some kind of blue blood.

“Though,” he mutters to himself, “Seeing as it’s so damn cold there, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“Hummel!”

Kurt’s head snaps up. “Yes, sir?”

“Since Anderson’s just arrived, I’m pairing him with you this year. I expect you to show him the ropes, make sure he gets to classes okay, and keeps up with homework. All right?”

“Yes sir,” Kurt says through gritted teeth. As if he didn’t have enough work on top of his Prefect status.

This Anderson kid must let the door slam behind him, which doesn’t exactly endear him to Kurt, as it sends a gust of cold air around the already freezing dungeon. Frowning, Kurt shifts his stool over to make space for the new guy.

He’s hoping - he’s hoping for one of those stuck up stereotypes of a Durmstrang kid, stuck up with one of those awful wispy little beards that they all seem to cultivate. When he appears, though, he’s completely different. His hair is combed down flat against his head, his face clean-shaven and his eyes warm, if a little nervous.

“Hi,” he whispers as he sits down on the stool, “I’m -”

Suddenly the stool breaks with a crack and the boy collapses to the floor with a yelp. Azimio and one of his lackeys burst out laughing, and with a sudden surge of anger Kurt realises the broken stool was probably meant for him.

The boy climbs to his feet, laughing nervously as he brushes off his robes. “S-sorry, guess I must have sat down wrong -”

“ _Fatty_ ,” someone coughs, and Schuester blithely strolls down through the desks, repairing Anderson’s chair with a flick of his wand. Cheeks red, the boy sits down and stares at his knees, arms folded tight over his stomach.

Kurt can’t concentrate for the rest of Schuester’s talk, only coming back to himself when everyone moves up to get ingredients. Frowning, Kurt checks the board to see what they’re making. Invigorating Draught, he notes, easy enough.

He’s on his way back with an armful of ingredients when he notices that the new boy hasn’t moved at all. Frowning, Kurt goes back and picks up double the ingredients, juggling it in his arms as he walks briskly back to their shared desk.

“Here,” he says, “I got you ingredients. Your cauldron’s pretty small, you might want to make half… are you okay?”

The boy’s shoulders are shaking and when Kurt bends down there are tears dripping off his chin. His lips are pressed hard together and there are tiny, helpless whimpers coming from his mouth.

“Hey,” Kurt spills their ingredients onto the desk and crouches down, “Hey, listen. Are you okay? Do you need a moment.”

“I’m -” he hiccups and makes an unattractive snorting noise, “I’m o-okay, I’m fine, I’m -”

“C'mon,” Kurt takes his sleeve and tugs him into the potions cupboard, pulling his handkerchief from his pocket and pushing it into the boy’s hand. “Sit down.”

He sits on the low stool and blows his nose, still hiccuping sobs. Kurt folds his arms and reads the labels on the jars of ingredients, setting his jaw. He may not know this guy, but everyone bands against Karofsky and his group of idiots.

“Okay?” he asks briskly, and the boy nods. “I’m sorry, it’s just - it’s my first day, and I just got - sorted, and I got lost and I miss my parents and I’m just - I’m a bit emotional.”

“Okay,” Kurt says slowly, “Well. Maybe we should start with names. I’m Kurt. I’m in my fifth year, and I’m a Slytherin.”

“I’m Blaine,” the boy offers his hand, “I’m in my - fourth year? And I’m in Gryffindor house.”

Kurt takes the outstretched hand and pulls him up. “Okay then. We should probably get started, this potion isn’t hard but it takes a while. We can talk while we chop.”

Blaine turns out to be a pretty sweet guy, once they actually get talking. Kurt offers to slice his roots, noticing that Blaine seems to have some trouble holding his knife securely, nearly chopping off one of his fingers at one point. In exchange, Blaine skins his figs with a funny-looking contraption that gets the skin off incredibly quickly.

“What’s that?” he asks, nodding at the thing. Blaine looks down and laughs. “Oh, it’s just a modified potato peeler. Makes things a little easier for me.”

“Why?”

“I’ve got, uh, I’ve got this sort of nerve damage in my hand,” he waves his right hand nervously, “It makes it hard to do things like cut things and peel.”

“How’d that happen?” Kurt asks curiously, and Blaine bites his lip. “I’m - I’m gay.”

Kurt blinks and colour floods his face. Coughing, he says “I didn’t know that gave you nerve damage. Maybe I should get my hands checked out.”

Blaine’s head snaps up. “You’re -?”

“Yeah,” Kurt shrugs, “You were saying?”

“Oh,” Blaine looks at his hands and takes a deep breath. “I got. Beat up, a couple months ago.”

Kurt’s mouth falls open. “For what?”

“For being me,” he shrugs and then laughs self-deprecatingly. “Durmstrang isn’t big on bowties. Or being gay, really.”

“I’m so sorry,” Kurt whispers, dumping Blaine’s roots into his cauldron, “I didn’t mean to pry.”

“It’s okay,” Blaine shrugs, “I’m getting better. My hands almost healed, now, I couldn’t even pick things up just after.”

“Still,” Kurt bites his lip, “You sound pretty brave.”

Blaine snorts. “Oh, no, I’m the opposite of brave.”

Kurt is about to ask why he thinks that when someone’s cauldron clatters to the floor and most of the room jumps up onto their chairs to avoid the hissing liquid. By the time it’s all cleared up, Blaine’s open face has shut down, hidden behind some sort of facade that he can’t quite crack.

**

Kurt sighs, tipping his head back as steam fills the bathroom. It’s been a long month, and this is the first time he’s been able to truly relax since…

Since Blaine arrived.

He’s done his best to help Blaine settle in, maybe even become friends, but he’s shut himself off. It’s not that they don’t get on, they do, but Blaine always seems like he’s holding back, like he’s hiding himself. Kurt really just wants to be friends, but there seems to be no way to get Blaine to open up.

The door to the prefects bathroom bangs open and he shrieks. “It's  _occupied_  -”

The door is already slamming shut, and a disheveled figure stands in front of it, dripping water.

“Blaine?” Kurt’s mouth falls open, “What on earth happened to you?”

“I fell in the lake,” Blaine says, teeth chattering, “Um, I’m sorry, one of the Prefect girls brought me here -”

“Of course, you can - I’ll go, I don’t need to -”

“No, no, you have the bath, I’ll just -”

They stumble over each other and blush and fumble over their words until Kurt reaches a resolution. “We could - we could share? I wouldn’t mind.”

“Okay,” Blaine says a little too quickly to be thought through, “Um, would you mind turning around?”

“No problem,” Kurt says, turning. He catches a glimpse of Blaine as as he reaches for a towel and his heart skips a painful beat at the pink scars curving along Blaine’s ribs.

He scrambles into the bath quickly, submerging himself as Blaine climbs in a little more gingerly, slipping a little and letting out a small shriek when he loses his grip. Once they’re both in they settle at opposite ends, staring at the bubbles between them.

“So this is awkward,” Kurt says, clearing his throat. Blaine sighs. “I know. I shouldn’t have -”

“No, it’s okay, I’ll get out -”

“Kurt, I’m happy for you to stay, I really don’t mind.”

“Okay,” Kurt relaxes back into the bath, “Okay.”

They sit in silence for a little while, Blaine’s eyes slowly sliding shut. Frowning, Kurt slides off the ledge and swims across to him, balancing on the bottom and shaking Blaine’s shoulder gently.

“Wha?” Blaine startles awake, eyes wide, and then relaxes. “Ugh, did I…?”

“Didn’t want you to drown or something,” Kurt says, quite suddenly aware that he’s standing next to a guy he kind of likes wearing nothing but his underwear. Surreptitiously, he checks that he’s covered by bubbles and then hoists himself up to sit next to Blaine.

“So,” he says, and then Blaine blurts “Would you go on a date with me?”

Kurt’s mouth snaps shut abruptly and he blinks. “Huh?”

“Oh, god,” Blaine covers his face, blushing, “I’m sorry, I’ve got a bit of a cold, I always blurt - not that I didn’t mean it, I do, but you don’t have to, you’ve probably got about a million boys -”

Kurt kisses him. Blaine startles under his hands and then relaxes, one hand coming up to grasp his bicep nervously. It’s when his other hand lands on Kurt’s thigh that they both jerk back, breathing hard.

“Bit too far,” Blaine says, and Kurt nods quickly. “For a first date, anyway.”

“This counts as a date?”

“Well,” Kurt narrows his eyes, “Depends. If you aid me on a midnight raid of the kitchens I might consider it.”

Blaine smiles, his eyes lighting up and his mask falling away for the first time in a month. “Well, if you twist my arm.”


	5. Day Five: Ten Years Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> klaine week day 5: ten years later. or, kurt gets some news. involving househusband!blaine (sort of, but it’s a bit of a guilty pleasure.) almost a direct sequel from my ‘what would you change’ fic.

“Hey, honey,” Kurt calls as he opens the front door of their apartment, “I’m home!”

The apartment is completely silent, and Kurt frowns as he pulls off his shoes and places them in the shoerack. “Blaine? Honey, are you here?”

He pulls out his phone and checks the schedule he keeps on there. The dance class that Blaine teaches had ended at three, so he should be at home.

“Hello?” he calls again, putting his briefcase down on the hall table and unbuttoning the neck of his shirt. Sighing, he decides that Blaine must be out with friends or something, and wanders into the kitchen to make himself a cup of coffee.

When he turns the corner he sees Blaine sitting on the couch, his eyes fixed on a sheaf of papers in his hands. Kurt inches into the room and clears his throat. “Blaine?”

Blaine’s head snaps up and he’s been crying, his cheeks damp and eyes rimmed with red. Kurt panics. “Blaine, baby, what’s wrong? What happened?” he rushes to sit next to his husband, grabbing for his hand, “Did something happen?”

Blaine clears his throat and blinks quickly. “I… we got a letter from the adoption agency.”

Kurt’s heart sinks to somewhere around his stomach. “Wh-what did they say.”

Blaine takes a deep breath. Folds their hands together. Looks up at Kurt.“

"Kurt, we’re getting a kid,” he says, his face breaking into a huge smile, “We’re getting a baby, Kurt -”

Kurt’s mind whirrs for a moment. A baby. They’re getting a baby.

It all sort of makes itself into a picture in his mind - a little boy, with Blaine’s smile even though he’s not biologically theirs, waking them up in the mornings, cuddled up between them on cold winter evenings, teaching him to swim and meeting Grandpa Burt and Grandma Carole -

“Oh my god!” Kurt leaps up off the seat and drags Blaine with him so he can wrap him up in his arms, twirling him around, “Blaine, we’re gonna -”

“Have a kid, Kurt, we’re gonna be parents,” Blaine stumbles as Kurt puts him down, his eyes shining with joy, “We’re finally, finally gonna be parents.”

“I have to tell my dad,” Kurt breathes, pulling Blaine close again, “You have to tell your mom. We need to tell everyone.”

“Hold up, darling, we haven’t even talked to any kids yet,” Blaine laughs, resting their foreheads together, “Maybe we should do that first.”

“Noo,” Kurt sighs, “Damn you and your infallible logic.”

“I love you,” Blaine tilts his face up to kiss him, sweet and soft, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Kurt breathes, “Blaine - we’re gonna be parents.”

“I know.”

“We’re gonna have a  _kid_ _.”_

“I know, beautiful.”

“Oh my god, I have to get started on decorating the nursery -”

“Hey, Kurt?”

Blaine catches Kurt’s arm, smiling, and tugs his hand lightly. “Maybe we should celebrate, before we start planning interior design.”

Kurt’s eyes narrow. “Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting, Mr Hummel-Anderson?”

“Maybe,” Blaine says coyly, “Why don’t you try it and we can find out?”

Kurt sighs and then, quite suddenly, picks Blaine up and tosses him over his shoulder. His husband squeaks and swats at his shoulder, giggling as Kurt carries him to the bedroom, smiling broadly, and thinks to himself  _my god, I must be the luckiest man alive right now_.


End file.
